


fingers and thumbs

by woodhouse



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Swearing, Texting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-23
Updated: 2016-04-23
Packaged: 2018-06-04 00:58:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,159
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6634615
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/woodhouse/pseuds/woodhouse
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Octavia installs Tinder on Bellamy's phone. Naturally, he and Clarke are a match.</p>
            </blockquote>





	fingers and thumbs

When Clarke sees Bellamy's profile pop up, her breath catches in her throat. It's definitely linked to his account; she sees their mutual friends and shared interests so it's not like some psycho is catfishing people with his identity which isn't such a ridiculous idea. She could see it working, especially if they picked these photos. Clark was grateful she was in private for she was spending way too much time staring, contemplating. Bellamy's main image is surprisingly one she hasn't seen before. It's not on his usual profile anywhere - so what if she double checked - but it was taken in a place she knows all too well: Octavia's bedroom. She'd recognise that ugly stuffed giraffe toy that Bellamy had draped around his neck anywhere. The set up was ridiculous but god damn did he look cute. An easy smile, and that was really all he needed. What Clarke didn't understand was why she was able to find Bellamy on Tinder at all. It did not seem like his scene, and his part time job at the bar made it hardly difficult for him to pick up girls. She rolled her eyes and swiped right. She categorically did not gasp when 'It's a Match!' appeared immediately, and fuck you if you thought her heart started to hammer behind her ribcage. A part, a huge part of her, was flattered but again the thought remained - this couldn't be real. This was some game, or bet, or joke. Whatever it was, she was curious to find out and... it wasn't like she need to be embarrassed about him thinking she'd swiped _for_ him. It was for... questioning purposes. She'd make him clear on that. She stared at the blank message space for 5 minutes while listening to the soft sound of rain hitting the window pane she was leaning her head on. It was a Saturday afternoon and she was _meant_ to be writing a blog post for the gallery she worked at, but-- fuck it. She began typing, and if it wasn't long before he replied then he never needed to know about the smile that bloomed on her face.

 

_No way are you on here for genuine reasons, Blake._

 

 

 

 

 

 

Hello to you too.

 

_Spill your game._

 

Do I really need an explanation for being on an app that most singles in our demographic are on??

 

_Yes. Yes you definitely do._

 

_You hook up ALL THE TIME. You literally have no reason to be swiping._

 

Maybe it's fun.

 

_Since when do you do fun._

 

Rude.

 

_Truth hurts bro._

 

_But seriously, why??_

 

Is tinder always such an inquisition? Fine, you got me, Octavia snatched my phone and installed this. Spent like 2 hours swiping while I was diligently making her food. She's a monster.

 

_Ah, it all makes sense now._

 

???

 

_She mentioned something the other day._

 

That I'm in desperate deserving need of love?

 

_No - that you cockblocked her and Lincoln last week and she would make you pay._

 

That girl I stg.

 

 

That explained it, Clarke thought. She couldn't even pretend to be disappointed, not really. I mean the thought of Bellamy being attracted to her and wanting to date her? Sure, that she could fully support with bows on top, even if he had a tendency to be a grump but, Bellamy trying to get hook ups on Tinder did not fit with who he was. She was glad she'd been right about him. Or maybe smug was a better word.

 

 

**2 hrs later**

 

 

 

You never mentioned why I'm finding you on here princess?

 

_I thought you would've deleted this by now._

 

Have I suddenly become illiterate or did that in no way answer my question?

 

_Ugh._

 

:)

 

_I'm just trying to date, is that a crime?_

 

No, but. I wouldn't think you'd need this.

 

_I don't. Need it, that is. It's just easy. Like you said - everyone uses it._

 

Fair enough. How's it going for you?

 

_What?_

 

The Tinder Experience.

 

_That sounds like an awful Lifetime movie in the making._

 

What would be the plot??

 

_Really nothing exciting. It's mainly just one big ego boost whenever you need it._

 

Drowning under all those matches eh, princess.

 

_You know it. It's when they start typing that the problems start._

 

No one up to your standards.

 

_No one able to spell or read sarcasm, more likely._

 

So, no one up to your standards.

 

_I'm being harsh. Some people have been nice, cool even. I haven't had too many disastrous dates, so._

 

But you have had some?

 

_Oh god, you don't even want to know._

 

Except I do.

 

_Well-- hang on, shouldn't you be picking O up from yoga? Her car's still dead right?_

 

Fuck.

 

 

**3 hrs later**

 Sometimes it was hard, falling into the girl trap of feelings. Clarke was ashamed of her thoughts sometimes, had to repeat the same mantra to herself over and over again: 'You are not your thoughts. You are not your thoughts.' But she'd be lying if she said that she'd not had a _lot_ of thoughts about one Bellamy Blake. She'd met him through Octavia, whom she loved dearly, not least because she made Lincoln's life burst into colour and light - and he was pretty much a joy to start with, right from the first day of art school, so that's saying something. When Octavia had dragged Bellamy into Lincoln's gallery to meet him, she was sat behind the reception desk with popcorn. Bellamy had given her a side-eyed death glare; she'd continued shovelling the salty goodness into her mouth.

"Don't mind me, I'm just here for the show," she had said with a sparkle of amusement in her eyes. How could it not be funny! Lincoln was sweating!

It turned out that after the initial awkwardness of half an hour or so, which Bellamy had spent mainly quiet and huffy, all four of them were Still Alive enough to go get nachos and beer. It was a fun night, but she still mainly only knew Bellamy on the periphery - always through his sister dragging him along to game nights, or them bombarding him for free shots whenever he was on shift at the bar. She wanted to know _more_.

She felt ridiculous even admitting to her own internal monologue what her brain was doing. 'He hasn't replied. Does he not want to message anymore? I want to message him. How long should I leave it? Do I seem desperate? Should I tell a joke? How can I seem cool and aloof? Why should I be worried about a stupid boy? It's his loss. Or is it my loss? FEELINGS!!!'

"Fuck this for a plate of blueberries," she said aloud and pulled out her phone. She liked messaging Bellamy, that wasn't some kind of crime against feminism. But she knew she wasn't actually going after what she wanted either, knew she was just skirting around the issue - finding excuses. Well, nobody's perfect. She began typing again.

 

 

_Did you get to her on time? Or did she murder you? Are you now dead?_

 

Can't get rid of me that easily, Griffin.

 

  
_Shame_.

 

I believe I was promised disaster date stories.

 

_I don't know whether I should indulge your schadenfreude._

 

Pllleeeeeeaaaaaseeeeee!!

 

_Pathetic._

 

But it's working, because you're going to tell me in 3, 2, 1...

 

_Fiiiine. I turned up to this one date, and because he knew I was bi he thought it'd be totally cool to have brought 2 other girls??_

 

You're shitting me.

 

_Just all sat around the restaurant table, WHICH HAD ALREADY GOT A BEEF CARPACCIO READY FOR ME. And they were all wearing like, fuck knows, early 20th century formalwear?? I had literally said a total of zero words when the guy was like "Sit. Eat."_

 

That's some shady beef-eating grooming circle you wandered in to, princess.

 

_And wandered straight out of. Then another time I had to sit through 30 mins of this girl trash talking all modern art._

 

Couldn't just leave?

 

_We were AT a gallery, I wanted to explore!_

 

Haha, of course you did. You're right though. The whole thing just seems a bit... unnecessary. At least at the moment.

 

_What does?_

 

Tinder.

 

_Right. Thought as much._

 

Yup, I think it's straight to the delete for me.

 

And that was it. He disappeared into empty, forgotten space.

Wow. Okay. If Clarke admitted how much that stung her, she would be way more pissed off. This was an advantage of burying all your emotions deep down in your skull: impenetrable denial. Over the next half hour, she found herself occasionally bringing her Tinder account up, just to double - triple check that Bellamy's profile was still missing, all messages and trace of him gone. She finished editing her by now overdue blog post - "fucking boys, sort your priorities out, girl," she chastised to herself.

 

**1 hr later**

 

 

 

Plus I mean, it's not like I don't already have your number.

 Clarke felt a bubble of warm laughter escape from her lips. She was annoyingly endeared.

 

_True. There is that._

 Is it weird if I can't get that Tinder picture of you with those glasses out of my head.

She obviously knew what he was talking about. It was stupid, goofy even. Octavia had drawn bright blue glasses on her face with some cheap face paint and then tickled her until she was in fits of laughter. She remembered that night well, it was a fun night - full of booze and chats. The photo Octavia had taken had Clarke staring cross eyed into the camera and twisting her tongue, her blonde hair piled up on her head in a messy bun. She looked like a dope. But in a good way, she thought.

_I'm always a picture of sophisticated grace._

Too sophisticated to grab a beer with me?

_In public?_

I think that tends to be the general idea with first dates, yeah.

_Has Octavia stolen your phone again?_

She let out a squeal (just a small one, god) when her phone immediately started to ring. She picked it up.

"Hello?"

"No, Octavia has not stolen my phone." Bellamy's voice was tinged with a mix of amusement and frustration. She heard him sigh. "So what dya say?"

"About?"

"You know - beer - a date."

"Oh. You were serious?"

"Why would I not be?"

Clarke bit down on a smile. "True. I'm a total catch."

A chuckle reached her ear. She liked thinking about herself being the cause of Bellamy's laughter, she wanted to hear more of that.

"When are you free?" Bellamy asked.

"Oh, I don't know... how about... tonight?"

"Tonight sounds perfect."

"Good. Give me an hour and I'll meet you at Grounders?"

"You got it, Princess."

 

 

 

**the next morning**

_So last night was fun._

You do realise that makes it sound like we hooked up.

_Sorry. Last night was mediocre._

That's more like it.

A solid 6 out of 10.

_If only we knew how to eke out those extra 4 marks, am I right._

I have some ideas.

Bellamy reached over and tugged Clarke's phone from her hand from where she was texting him. They were tangled in a blanket on Clarke's lumpy couch ("this thing is the breaker of backs, Clarke, Jesus Christ," was Bellamy's appraisal). Yes, they'd fallen asleep watching the first Harry Potter after Clarke had invited him back round to hers - so what. It had been amazing. He had been amazing. And now he was super close to her face.

"Morning," he murmured into the crook of her neck. He placed a soft kiss to the skin there, tentative, warm.

Clarke hummed and opened her neck up for more of his mouth as his fingers began to trace the outline of her cheek. "Maybe a 7 out of 10."

He chuckled (she still loved that sound) and pulled her down to lean over her. He was looking at her with a heat in his eyes she didn't want to over-analyse. She reached out until her hands had settled around the nape of his neck, twirling the curls she found there around her fingers.

"I'm glad Octavia is a meddler, if it brought us here," she told him.

"Believe me, anything I could've done to get us here? With me on top of you, looking perfect? I would've done."

She pulled him down until she felt his mouth join hers, hot and slow. Opening her mouth for him, she felt him lick against her tongue and the moan that escaped her was matched by his.

"That was embarrassing," she admitted.

"No, that was hot," he replied gruffly, biting her bottom lip gently and pulling her to him even closer.

"You're hot."

He laughed, "nice comeback, princess."

"Shut up," she said. "My brain's not working."

She raked her hands down his back and breathed him in. It was intoxicating.

"I know the feeling."

 

**6 hrs later**

 How about making our brains not work again tomorrow night?

_10 out of 10._


End file.
